May 12, 2022

"Can we take a break?"

I lowered myself to the floor without waiting for Desmond to answer. Continuing to stand would have resulted in me passing out. It was better to ask forgiveness than permission sometimes. I felt this was one of those times.

"Sure."

Not an enthusiastic response. But I didn't care. We had only been sparring for about an hour. I shouldn't be feeling so tired yet. But I was.

I put my hand to the back of my neck, rubbing the tight muscle from where I had slept poorly. Again. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep using my problems with Connor as an excuse for my insomnia. Things had been going well between us since our conversation on Sunday. We were getting along, talking. Even laughing. Most of my stress should have been alleviated. But it wasn't. I still had too much on my mind to relax.

"You okay?"

I glanced up to see Desmond kneeling in front of me. He was watching me closely, his brow knit in either concern or frustration. I could never tell which with him. The first time we met I had gotten the impression he didn't like me very much. There were times he was polite, and I thought whatever disapproval he felt was fading. Other times it was like this. I had no idea how Desmond felt about me.

"I'm fine," I told him. "I just slept wrong."

He looked at me as if he knew I were lying. I didn't try to validate my excuse. I let him think whatever he wanted.

I stood up, trying my best not to stagger like a drunk as I did. Desmond stood as well.

"Are you getting sick?" he ask.

"No." It sounded defensive to my own ears. I tried to cover it with nonchalance. "Why would you think that?"

Desmond shrugged. "Well, you haven't been eating much lately. And you've been low on energy. Also -" He reached up and put his palm to my forehead. "You're warm."

I shoved his hand away. "It's hot in here. And why do you care about my diet? You're not my father." The expression of irritation he gave me this time could not be mistaken for anything else. I almost felt bad for being so harsh. Instead of apologizing, I brushed it off. "I'm not sick."

"Good." It was said icily. Not that I blamed him. I was being a little rude. I let it go.

"Are you ready to go again?" I ask.

"Whatever you want, Faith." Spoken in a flat, uncaring tone.

Desmond was just being a jerk now. I didn't let that slide. "Just forget it. I don't even want to work with you anymore."

"Fine by me."

I walked away. Back upstairs. I knew Jack would be upset because I wasn't focused on training like he felt I should be. But I was just too preoccupied to care. I went into my room (Jack's room), changed into jeans and a tee shirt, put on a hat and shoved the little bit of money I had left from our last outing in my pocket. I needed a break from this place. Especially from the people.

Desmond was still on the first floor. He watched me as I went to the front door. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

I reached for the handle of the door. Desmond grabbed it before I could. "Out where?"

"Do you have a pathological need to know everything about me?"

Desmond's jaw clinched. "I'm not asking because I give a shit about you. I'm asking because it's dangerous to leave the grounds."

I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm enough to reason so this wouldn't become an even bigger deal. "Jack's okay with me leaving, Desmond." That part was fine. It was what I said next that wasn't so fine. "Unlike you, he is my father."

Desmond scoffed. I thought he would make a retort. He didn't. He just took his hand off the knob and moved away from the door.

I left, walking the short way to the front gate. I had only left the compound three times and none of them had been alone, but I did know there was a gas station about two miles away. The small access road had no curves or turns. It was a strait shot to the highway then a short walk the store. Even I couldn't get lost going such a brief distance.

It took a bit longer than I had thought it would to reach the BP. I had been tired before the walk. By the time I got there I was exhausted. I bought a bottle of water and a Hersey's, then sat on the bench outside the entrance while I ate my candy. The place stank of gasoline and old oil. I couldn't remember ever smelling anything so foul. It wasn't long before I was puking up my chocolate around the corner of the building.

That's when I decided to go home.

There was a man sitting on the bench as I picked up my bottle of water from where I had left it. He was smoking a cigarette and staring into the distance distractedly. He glanced at me as I walked by him.

"You okay?" Casual inquiry, as if it didn't really matter. Spoken out of an obligation as a human being, not a person concerned with the answer.

I was sick of being asked that. Especially by guys who didn't give a shit about me. I was not polite as I told him I was fine without breaking stride.

As I was nearing the main road, I swished some water around in my mouth then spit it out onto the grass in a completely unladylike way. I downed the rest of my drink, crushed up the bottle and put it in my back pocket. I was against littering.

I hadn't gone far when a tan Chevy pulled onto the side of the road in front of me. I cursed as I noticed the same guy who had been at the store get out. Sunglasses hid his eyes, making it impossible to know what he was really thinking. He watched me from behind the dark lenses.

"Can I give you a ride?"

"No, thanks." I tried to be as polite as possible, even smiled at him. I hoped if I was nice, he would go away.

He stood by the car, with the door open. I weighed my options as I got closer. Moving around him on the road side was dangerous. Traffic had picked up. The two-lane street was quite busy. Going around him the other way would force me to walk in the ditch. It wasn't deep, but it was filled with stagnant runoff from the river nearby, and littered with trash. I did not want to walk in that. I slowed, hoping he would take the hint and leave. He didn't.

"Are you sure?" he ask, a charming grin forming on his features. "I'm not a creep."

I huffed, not even feeling like arguing with him. I just wanted to get home and lay down. I was weak from a taxing morning and felt like I might get sick again. The last thing I wanted to do was give excuses to a complete stranger.

I took a few more steps. I had just reached the back bumper of the Cobalt when a wave of dizziness almost floored me. I had to put my hand on the trunk to keep from falling down.

The man appeared next to me. I could smell his cologne. It was light and airy, giving me a sense of deja vu I didn't understand. "Doesn't look like you're in any condition to walk anywhere," he said softly. "Let's get you in the car."

I shook my head. That only made the vertigo worse. I felt him take my arm firmly, but didn't have the energy to resist. I was aware of him leading me to the car and of him easing me into the back seat.

"I need...to go home." I mumbled.

"I know," he said. There was something about his voice. Something familiar. I couldn't place where I'd heard it before. "Just relax. Everything's gonna be okay, Josie."

I wasn't sure why he had called me that. I started to tell him that wasn't my name. Before I could do anything, the world faded around me.

The smell of smoke mixed with the scent of a hundred sweaty bodies. Music pounded much too loudly. Nothing could be heard over it. The heat of a packed room, humid and uncomfortable. Strobeing lights didn't help with vision. But that was the point of the club. To get lost.

I looked at the man sitting beside me. He was closer than he needed to be. Closer than I wanted. He was smoking a cigarette and pretending he wasn't watching me.

"Relax, J."I could barely hear his voice over the cacophony of other noises. He looked at me, a smile on his face. "I thought you've done this before."

The scent of cologne. Light and airy…

I opened my eyes. I couldn't remember where I was or what had happened. I tried to move my arms. I felt resistance, metal on my wrists. I was restrained. Handcuffed. I wasn't sure how I knew that before seeing it, I just did.

I looked around the room. It was small. The ugly yellow paint was peeling off the walls. Besides the bed I was chained to, the contents were a worn dresser, an equally distressed nightstand and a threadbare chair whose original color was impossible to make out. The television hanging on the far wall was playing a show I had never seen. The volume was low. Dark green curtains covered the large window by the steel door. I was in a very cheap motel room with no idea how I had gotten there.

I looked above my head. The steel of the cuffs was dark, thick and strong. They were not novelty handcuffs. They were real. The kind used by law enforcement, impossible to disengage without a key. The iron bar of the headboard was not as sturdy. It was bent and dented from years of use for things I did not want to consider. Situations similar to mine, probably.

Grasping each of my wrists with the other hand to ease some of the pressure I was about to inflict, I tugged the chain wrapped around the bar. I pulled until my arms were weak, noticing no change. This would take forever. Time I doubted I had. Who knew when my captor would return.

After a deep, cleansing breath, I renewed my efforts. I ignored the burning in my shoulders and kept pulling. My arms were shaking from exertion. But I kept going. I didn't have a choice. I had to get out of here. That meant I couldn't give up.

I cursed as my strength gave way. I hated being weak. I knew my fatigue wasn't owed only to my current condition. The grogginess I was feeling was the side effects of a sedative. I had been drugged. When and how, I wasn't sure. The thought of being injected with an unknown substance gave me more reason for concern.

As I was gearing up for another attempt at freedom, I heard the lock click. I instantly stilled, watching the entrance closely. The door opened. A man entered. He was carrying a bag from a fast-food restaurant. He looked at me, smiling as he noticed I was conscious.

My eyes tracked his every move as he put the bag on the dresser and pulled the chair closer to the bed. He sat, relaxed. Completely unconcerned about what might happen to him if I managed to get loose.

"Hey, baby."

His voice sparked a memory in me. I had heard it before. Not only at the store where he had kidnapped me, but elsewhere. And long before today. I just couldn't remember when or where. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mattress as he watched me. His eyes were green, cool and calculating. He wasn't just some random predator. And he hadn't grabbed me out of convince. This was personal. His next words proved that.

"Did you miss me, J?"